Where Roads Meet
by Autumn's Shadow
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester wake up to find the world overrun by zombies. And like every other catastrophe in their life, they're not going to take it laying down. With the help of Rick's group, they will fight zombies, demons, and angels to find a cure and save the world. (Starts at the beginning of season 5 for TWD; and mid season 9 for SPN, no mark of Cain)
1. Prologue

Prologue

Sam felt like he had been pulled out of deep water. A huge weight seemed to come off his chest and he breathed in deeply. He realized that was a bad idea as he inhaled a mouthful of dust. Coughing, he sat up, his whole body feeling stiff and slow.

He had been laying in what looked to be a cheap motel room, not unlike the countless others he had stayed in over his time. Only this one was past cheap. It was falling apart. As he looked around, trying to make out details through the darkness, he realized it looked like it had been abandoned for years.

A strong scent of mildew was mixed in with the usual funky motel odors, making him gag. The wall paper, undoubtedly hideous at some point in time, was faded and peeling off the walls in strips. Part of the ceiling was sagging from what look to be serious water damage. And a layer of dirt and grime coated all of the furniture and beds.

With growing apprehension, Sam realized that his clothes and hair were also covered in a healthy amount of dust, like he had been with this place as it had decayed. Sam bolted up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that rose up with him, and frantically dusted himself off.

He racked his brains, trying to recall how he had gotten there. Last he could remember, he had been at the Men of Letters bunker with Dean and Cas.

Dean and Cas.

He looked around, but found no sign of either of them. The other queen bed lay untouched. There were no beer bottles, old food wrappers, or dirty clothes laying around that usually signified Dean's presence. Besides the slightly rumpled bed spread where Sam had been laying, there was no evidence that anyone had been in this room for a long time.

Sam pushed down his rising sense of panic. He hated losing time. It usually meant possession, which he was all too familiar with. He focused on taking deep breaths, calming down. He remembered what Crowley had told him when he had been unknowingly sharing a body with Gadreel. Vessels could remember everything while possessed. That means if he was or had been possessed, he should be able to remember.

He sat down on the dusty bed, concentrating. But no matter how hard he thought, he could remember nothing.

Sam wasn't sure how long he sat there in the darkness, trying to recall what happened. But sitting here and stewing wouldn't do him any good. He had to figure out what was going on, fast.

His hands moved to his jacket and he breathed a sigh of relief as he found that he still had his personal effects on him. Though there was no immediate danger, he pulled the demon slaying knife out of his pocket, comforted by the familiar feel of it in his hand. He also had his handgun, thankfully with a full magazine, which he kept it tucked in his belt. If whatever was happening was supernatural, which he had no doubt it was, the knife would probably be more useful.

His phone still had full batteries, but unfortunately no service. Part of him wasn't suprised. What was more surprising was that it had no date or time. He used the screen's light to check his watch. It read 9:06, but the second hand wasn't moving. Who knew how long it had been 9:06 for.

He took stock of the room. The windows had been blacked out for some reason, explaining the darkness. He tried flipping a light switch, but as he expected, no power. He looked through cabinets and drawers, checked under the bed, peeked in the bathroom, and even undid the beds and flipped the mattresses. Nothing. No weapons, no duffel bags, no evidence he or anyone else had ever stayed in this room.

Hoping against hope, he checked the fridge, not realizing until that moment how hungry and he was. Unfortunately, his phone revealed nothing but mold and fungus. Nothing came out of the sink but a small, weak stream of dark water.

Realizing there was nothing here for him, Sam headed to the door, determined to find out what was going on. As he started to turn the handle, an idea occurred to him. He walked back to the bed stand and opened the drawer. Underneath an old Holy Bible, was a phone book.

It was falling apart and fading, but still legible. Using the light from his phone again, he looked up the first motel in the book. The listing matched the name of on pad of paper that was sitting on top of the stand. Sam felt a slight twinge of disappointment. He had been hoping he wasn't at the first motel. That would have given him some direction to go.

Whenever he and Dean were separated they would always meet at the first motel in the phone book.

Although he knew it was a long shot, Sam grabbed the pad of paper and the cheap motel pen. He quickly scribbled a note to Dean. He set it on the bed to the right, the one Dean usually slept on and turned towards the door. Somehow Sam knew he wouldn't be coming back here.


	2. Chapter 1

CH 1

Rick pulled the small wooden stake he had sawed from the planking of the train car out of his pant leg. To his left he heard the swoosh and crack of the bat followed by the sickening sound of gushing blood as the third man in the lineup had his throat slit. His blood mixed with the others in the trough, the dark red stream running towards the drain.

That left only one man to be slaughtered before Glenn. And the rest of them would quickly follow. Rick pushed his panic down and tried to think. Bob struggled wildly to his right. He could see Daryl straining against his restraints to the left. Neither were making any progress. And his stake was next to useless. It wouldn't cut the plastic zip ties holding his hands together, not in time.

Rick looked up as the man in charge of Terminus, Gareth, came into the room holding a pen and notebook.

"Hey, guys," he said, completely undisturbed by the gristly scene in front of him. "What were your shot counts?"

Rick held his breath, hoping they would stop to talk and give him more time.

"Thirty-eight," one of the men said, raising his bat, not even missing a beat. Rick's heart sank.

He heard the swoosh as the bat came down again. But this time, there was no crack. Rick looked over to see the man stumble forward slightly as his bat met nothing but open air. His intended target had ducked his head down as the bat had come at him. He lifted it up now, looking over his shoulder at the bat guy.

Like the others, the man was gagged, but Rick was able to make out a muffled, "Oops, sorry."

"Hey!" The butcher with the knife snarled and grabbed the man's short, dark blond hair, slamming his chest into the tub. The man grunted as the air was pushed out of his lungs.

Rick didn't hesitate. Using the distraction, he began sawing at his bonds. He kept his eyes on the butchers praying for more time.

Thankfully, the man seemed happy to deliver.

The man gave a small, muffled chuckle as he straightened his back and looked up at Gareth. It wasn't a look of fear or pleading. He looked almost, curious. He easily met Gareth's eyes, a cocky tilt to his head.

Gareth had taken a step back after the man had dodged the bat, clearly startled at the unexpected turn of events. He took a step forwards now, looking to regain control of the situation.

"What are you smiling at, pretty boy?"

The man started talking conversationally, but thanks to the gag, all of his words were muffled. Gareth huffed and walked over to him, yanking the fabric out of his mouth. As he did so, the two men behind the captives took a half step back, letting their weapons rest at their side. Not wanting them to see what he was doing, Rick reluctantly stopped his sawing, hiding the wood up his sleeve.

"Ah, that's better," the man said once he was free of the gag.

"What do want?" Gareth demanded.

"You're the little SOB in charge of this place?" the man asked. His voice was gruff and deep, but good-natured. Rick briefly wondered if the man was insane and unaware of the danger they were in.

"Yes." Gareth straightened, looking slightly confused.

The man nodded and looked around the room as if he was impressed with the display. "Ya know, I got to say," he turned back to Gareth, "I've met some pretty messed up bastards in my time, but you my friend," he smiled, "take the cake."

Gareth's face darkened. "We do what we have to."

"Sure," he nodded, "of course you do."

Gareth grimaced. "Do you have anything useful to say, or can I continue?" He stepped forwards threateningly, looking down at the kneeling man.

The man met his eye, completely unfazed. He still had a small smirk on his face, but the humor had melted away. His eyes were cold and dark.

"Just that I will get out of here," his voice was dangerously low. "I will see this place burn to the ground. And I will kill you."

Gareth made a show of looking at the man's bonds and the dead victims to the man's left. He gave a small smirk of his own. "Good luck with that." Gareth said, moving to replace the gag over the man's mouth.

"I don't need luck," he replied, his eyes never leaving Gareth's.

He shook head slightly and replaced the gag over the man's mouth. He stood back up and motioned to his men. "Continue."

The butchers shifted behind them, ready to start the slaughter again. Rick slid the stake out of his sleeve, unable to wait any longer. The butcher on the left hefted his bat, this time ready for any more of the man's tricks.

Two gunshots rang through the air, causing everyone to jump.

It was silent for a second but Gareth quickly got over his shock, motioning for his men to continue the slaughter. He pulled out his walkie. "Hey, Chuck?"

Bat guy raised his weapon again. Another shot rang out.

Everyone looked around, waiting for another. Rick wondered if he dared hope for rescuers. Had the others somehow escaped the train car? Could they be with the man? Rick shot a glance over at him but couldn't read his expression.

An explosion ripped through the room, the blast knocking Rick to the floor.

He lay on the ground, disoriented by the shock wave. Ears ringing, he raised his head and took stock of his surroundings.

Daryl and Bob had fallen as well and were laying ground besides him. Glenn and the other captive had managed to stay upright and were still kneeling before the trough. Gareth and the two terminus men must have stumbled slightly, but had managed to keep their footing.

"You stay here," Gareth said, heading towards the door.

Rick gripped his stake, thankful he had managed to hold onto it.

"These guys aren't going anywhere," the guy with the bat said.

Rick started hacking away at his bonds again.

"Stay here 'till I know what's happening!" Gareth sounded frantic, yelling over the sound of machine gun fire that had started up. He jogged out the room.

One of the men looked around, incredulous. "So, we just sit here?"

"We got a job to do," the other replied.

Panic welled up again as the terminus men turned back towards their work. Rick couldn't tell how far he had cut through his bonds, but it wasn't enough. Glenn groaned and pulled on his restraints.

A quick flash of movement caught Rick's eye. He turned just in time to see bat guy stagger back, hands going up to his face. The other captive was up, both arms and legs free and ready.

The other butcher came at the man, knife slicing down in a large arc. The man caught the butcher's arm, stopping the knife a few inches from his face. He pulled the butcher's arm and twisted. The knife clattered to the floor. He pushed the butcher, causing him to lose footing and fall. The other butcher came up behind the man, bat raised over his head. The man turned to meet him, ducking. Bat guy lost his balance again as the bat sailed over the man's head. As bat guy turned to meet him, the man raised his fist and landed a well-placed blow to bat guy's jaw, sent him staggering back.

Rick realized he had stopped cutting to watch him. He started up again as the man picked up the knife and drove it up through bat guy's skull. Rick felt the cuffs give and he wrenched his hands apart. He heard a yelp and turned to see the man approaching the second butcher, bloody knife held tight in his hand. The butcher tried to crawl away, but the man came up behind him and, with a small grunt, stabbed him in the brain, cold and callous.

Rick turned to the zip tie around his feet, hoping this man wouldn't turn that knife on them next. Although this man was obviously no friend to Terminus, Rick knew better than to assume that immediately made them allies. And Rick and the others were at a definite disadvantage, tied up and weaponless.

The man yanked the gag out of his mouth and turned his cold gaze towards Rick, still holding the blood-stained knife. He took note of the stake in Rick's hands poised above the zip tie.

"Let me," he said nodding towards Rick's feet. He walked over to where Rick was sitting and, with a quick motion, sliced through the tie around his feet.

The man stood back up and held out his hand. After a brief hesitation, Rick took his hand, letting the man pull him to his feet.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," the man said with a small smile, "I'm Dean, by the way."


End file.
